


Healing Time

by SweetSorcery



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Character Death Fix, Hand Jobs, Healer Harry, Healing, M/M, Male Slash, Massage, Physical Therapy, Romance, Slash, Turkish Bath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 11:25:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4874893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetSorcery/pseuds/SweetSorcery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Severus braves the world two years after the events of <i>The Deathly Hallows</i>. In seeking healing for his body, he finds someone whose heart only he is able to heal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Healing Time

**Author's Note:**

> **Author's Notes:** Lengthy descriptions and a lot of soap. And I do mean a LOT. Any similarities you may spot between the healing treatment in this story and procedures in a Turkish Bath are not accidental, but I have taken many liberties.
> 
>  **Archiving:** Nowhere except here. And please, no translations either.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** JK Rowling and various publishers own all rights to this fandom and its characters. This was created for fannish, non-profit pleasure only.

When Severus Snape approached the healer's establishment just off Diagon Alley, battling rain and wind and a singularly ineffective umbrella charm, it was with no small amount of trepidation. He had never been fond of being touched, and his time with the Death Eaters had done nothing to change his mind about touch usually going along with pain. He remembered his consultation at St Mungo's with distaste. 

"But it's a good kind of pain," the foolish medi-witch who had referred him had insisted. "It will do you a world of good after your long recuperation and all that lying down." He scoffed quietly to himself. He had been lying down recovering from Nagini's bite. The potions he always, without fail, kept tucked away in his robes had saved his life, but only time had regained him his strength. Well... most of it. His limbs were stiff from being bedridden for months, and he felt as weak as a kitten whenever he so much as took a short walk. This still close to two years later, and it was grating on his nerves to move like an old, old man.

And this, for all his misgivings, was how he found himself here, outside this very new and yet already highly recommended magical healing and massage establishment. He shuddered, anticipating the inevitable pain closely following after the inevitable embarrassment of having to strip off and be gawked at by a stranger.

As he entered the round, dome-roofed building, a small bell above the door tinkled softly, and he was greeted by soft Middle Eastern music and a mixture of exotic scents. Severus sniffed, discerning at once the presence of rose, sandalwood, jasmine, mint, vanilla and frankincense. He had to admit in his own mind that the mix was pleasant and indicated a quality selection. The reception desk was immediately ahead of him, and a smiling young man stood behind it, waving him forward. "Good afternoon, sir," he said pleasantly. "Are you Mr Prince?"

Severus nodded curtly. "I'm here for--"

The young man raised a clipboard and said, "The full recuperative treatment as recommended by St Mungo's - the heated scrub and soap foam massage treatment with gentle stretching, followed by a soothing almond milk and rose bath." He met Severus' eyes. "Use of our private treatment area has been requested especially."

Severus was surprised. He had been sure his mutterings about being laid out in a meat warehouse and tortured in front of a gawking crowd who may well recognise him had been utterly ignored. "Indeed," he said.

The receptionist smiled. "Your healer will be available very soon. Would you care for some tea while you wait? Apple or lemon perhaps? Apple tea is very relaxing, and lemon of course quite refreshing."

Suppressing a snide remark about potions masters not needing lessons on aromatic properties of fruits, Severus reminded himself that along with privacy he had requested anonymity. The young man had no way of knowing he was dealing with an expert in plants and potions. So he merely said, "Apple, please."

"Right away, sir. If you'd care to take a seat in the waiting room to your right, I'll bring your tea very shortly."

Severus nodded and entered the small, softly lit room opposite the larger area actually labelled "Waiting Area", and realised he had been sent to a private waiting room with just two seats - very comfortable large lounge chairs upholstered in bright but soothingly patterned fabrics. He sat down stiffly on one of the chairs, but felt his inflexible limbs relax instantly into the firm but well-padded seat. He had barely enough time to look around and note the thick blue drapes, fresh flowers, and the artwork around the small room - all depicting healing sessions from ancient Egypt, Rome, Greece and the Byzantine Empire, before the receptionist turned up with a small tray. He set it down on the ornate side table between the two loungers. It held a full and steaming dark glass cup with metal handle, a small dish with raw honey, a silver spoon, and a saucer with apple slices, dark grapes and a tiny pastry.

"Please enjoy. When you are ready, simply walk through into the next room. You can change into one of the provided wraps there, and a pair of slippers, and then simply move through into the crystal room and sit down on the marble surface in the centre. It is of course heated for your comfort. If at any point you require any assistance, don't hesitate to use the golden bell inside the changing room." The receptionist bowed slightly and, once Severus had acknowledged his instructions with a nod, left the room and closed the door softly behind himself.

Severus sighed, but leaned back into his chair. The tea was delicious - the delicate apple aroma soothed him instantly. He ignored the honey but helped himself to two slices of apple, a grape, and the pastry - which reminded him strongly of baklava.

All too soon, he came to the end of the cup of tea. He would have quite happily left right then, simply putting the whole thing down as a pleasant afternoon's visit to a teashop, but he knew the healers at St Mungo's would never leave him alone about it. More importantly, neither would his constantly aching body. 

So he reluctantly rose from the chair, supporting himself with both hands on the arm rests, and made his way through into the changing room - a small and functional room with a padded bench, a mirror, a tall stack of fringed, striped body wraps, a range of different sized slippers with rubber soles, and a shelf holding a jewel encrusted jewellery box, open and just large enough to hold whatever one might wish to remove prior to treatment. The lighting in the room was provided by a matching set of wall lanterns casting a soft golden glow. Even this tiny room felt luxurious, and Severus began to wonder about the actual treatment room.

He soon found his suspicions confirmed - the circular crystal room was pure indulgence. The domed ceiling was made of thick chunks of coloured glass, which both amplified and softened what little sunlight there was on a rainy autumn afternoon in London. Directly underneath it was a rectangular raised gold and cream marble surface, narrowing in a gentle curve down to the marble floor, where it was set into a recessed draining area glistening with residual water. The room was pleasantly warm and humid, with potted palms evenly spaced around the walls between small marble ledges bearing candles, oil burners and an array of soaps, brushes and cloths. Three small alcoves holding marble tubs lay directly off the round main room.

Severus breathed in deeply the moist, sandalwood and frankincense scented air, fighting down his discomfort with wearing nothing but a cotton wrap and slippers. Truth be told, he was relaxing in the soothing environment despite himself. His concern about lying down on hard marble was alleviated when he saw the thick carpet-like towels provided on a table next to the slab. He spread out the uppermost one and sat on it, instantly feeling the heat from the hot marble seep through the fabric. 

He couldn't help but be impressed by the thought which had gone into setting up the healing space, especially when he realised the inset crystal sections around the walls were all excellent healing stones - amethyst, clear quartz, rose quartz, green and yellow fluoride and aquamarine. In his experience, few healers were even familiar with crystal healing and many unjustly scoffed at it. The soft music which had greeted him on arrival was barely audible inside the crystal room, just a subtle background sound which did much to recreate the atmosphere of a more exotic time and place. Nothing in this establishment was intrusive, too hot or too cold, too hard or too soft... 

Severus was, in short, quite impressed. And then the healer entered and his mood dropped at once.

In the only open doorway not leading to the changing room or one of the alcoves stood Harry Potter - clad in white pants and a short-sleeved white polo shirt, and with bare feet. He had stopped dead, staring at his former professor with his eyes wide and his mouth open.

For a brief moment, Severus stared back, but then he gathered the wrap tighter around himself and rose with as much dignity and agility - the latter much harder to achieve - as he could muster, intent on leaving without further ado. 

Harry hurried forward when it became apparent even standing up was difficult for the proud man. "Where are you going?" he asked, gently placing his hand under Severus' left elbow to take his weight as he slid off the stone.

Severus looked at him as if he had asked a very foolish question. "Away from here, obviously."

"Why?"

Why. Severus scoffed. Why? Because he had been forced to treat this boy... this young man, with utter contempt for years, which could have done nothing but foster loathing. Because he had killed, whether or not on his own order, Potter's mentor. Because when one was not fond of pain, being at the mercy of someone with a grudge was not to be recommended. Because this was possibly the very last person by whom he ever wanted to be seen as weak and vulnerable. Because nothing could ever be more embarrassing than to crawl - if indeed he could - to Potter for help, after he had poured much of his pathetic inner life and memories into a bottle for him to cackle over with his friends. Why indeed!

Out loud, Severus said none of those things. The only thing worse than being weak was to admit to it. He merely glared at Potter as if that alone should convey everything. And he was confused, very confused, by the expression on Potter's face - some odd mix of happiness, sadness and surprise, and most confusingly of all... was that a tear on Potter's cheek?

"I believe," Potter started hesitantly, having come to a decision on how to deal with his edgy patient, "that you requested the full treatment, Mr Prince. Shall we get started?"

Severus leaned back against the marble slab, staring into the green eyes he hadn't seen in close to two years. He searched them - they were most definitely damp - and the square-jawed, no longer childlike face, for any hint of gloating or ridicule, but either Potter was wearing an impenetrable mask, had suffered a bad case of amnesia, or he truly was willing to pretend he didn't know Severus from any other patient who might have walked in off the street.

"You're the healer?" he eventually asked doubtfully.

Potter smiled. "I am. I assure you, sir, I have been trained by a master healer in Istanbul, who has familiarised me with both modern and ancient magical healing techniques." He added softly, "You can trust me, sir, you are in good hands."

Severus' first notion was to scoff. In his experience, Potter was not someone who learned a lot in a short amount of time, let alone enough to justify the reputation he had apparently already acquired in a mere two months of running his business. Of course, most of that was probably due to the fact that he was Harry Potter, and would by default gain a reputation in whatever he turned his hand to. Then again, a small voice insisted in Severus' mind, everything he had seen here so far spoke of astounding attention to detail, care and professionalism. Furthermore, something had to be done about his aching body, and it seemed Potter was his best hope. He was possibly doomed.

"What happens first?" he asked coldly.

Potter smiled as if he'd won a victory. "Lie down on your back, Mr Prince. I see you've chosen to use the mat. I'm going to pour warm water over your body for a basic cleansing and to relax you. Then I will gently rub the layer of dead skin cells off your body with a kese..." He held up a coarse looking scrubbing glove. "It's made of date palm fibres. I will be applying a gentle massage where I sense tension."

'That will be everywhere,' Severus thought. He didn't like the sound of being scrubbed down with the painful looking implement, least of all by Potter, but he felt it might look too much like cowardice if he fled now after having committed himself. "Do your worst," he said, slowly sitting back and lifting his legs onto the thick padding, refusing to allow Potter to assist him and attempting not to wince. He lay back and stared hard at the crystalline ceiling, doubting very much that the multi-coloured but subtle light beams streaming in all around him would do anything to distract him from the pain to come.

Potter whispered a soft spell in a language Severus didn't know - for a moment he thought it might be Parseltongue, or Arabic - and the large copper bowl he now held in his hands filled with water. "Relax, sir," he said.

Severus snorted, refusing to respond to the impossible command. Yet, when Potter began to slowly pour warm water over his feet, he briefly forgot about the impending torture. The warm water flowed from the bowl - spelled to not run empty or cool, clearly - streaming gently over his legs, his wrapped hips, then up along his right and then left arm, over his chest and neck.

"It will be more effective if you remove the peştemal, Mr Prince." He nodded towards the wrap covering Severus from just below his navel to the top of his thighs. Severus gave him a quelling look, and Harry said without blinking, "But it's entirely up to you, of course."

The water continued pouring over him, with Potter starting again at his feet and covering his whole body. The towel beneath Severus was now wet, of course, but as the water, the towel, and the marble were all heated, it was not uncomfortable.

Eventually, the soothing water flow ceased and Severus, seeing Harry slide his right hand into the scrubbing glove, sucked in a deep breath and stiffened.

"I will start with your arms," Potter said, lifting Severus' left arm by the wrist. He started by running the glove in small circular motions upwards and all around from the back of his hand over the forearm, elbow, upper arm, and then the shoulder, lingering there with slightly greater pressure, unfailingly pinpointing some of the most painful knots in Severus' muscles and working them out. Potter stood at the side of the slab, so Severus could watch what he was doing. The grip on his wrist was firm but gentle, raising and lowering his arm depending on the progress of the glove. Once he had finished with his left shoulder and gently placed the left arm back along his side, he  
walked around the slab and repeated the process on the right.

Severus continued to wait for the pain to start, but thus far the scrubbing massage had done nothing but to spread a pleasant tingling sensation throughout his body, which grew more warming and pleasant the more area Potter covered. The mitten was not dry, and the fact that it was being soaked in warm water between sections of his body kept it soft enough to feel pleasant rather than painful.

When Potter began applying it to his calf, Severus was suddenly reminded of the awkwardness of his former pupil doing this to him, but the gentle circles, the soft brushing sounds, and the spreading warmth as his circulation increased, distracted him from his embarrassment.

He glanced surreptitiously at Potter's face, which gave away nothing. It was all concentration on the task at hand and, to Severus' surprise, it was a task performed with utter professionalism and consideration.

"You've learned this in the time since--" He stopped, not really wanting to bring up their shared past when Potter seemed willing to pretend they didn't know each other, but the silence was possibly more awkward than to acknowledge reality.

Potter looked surprised, but covered the expression quickly. He nodded. "I left for Turkey within weeks. As soon as it seemed that--" He looked away from Snape's face. "I'd been thinking about what to do, how to get away but still do something useful rather than go into hiding. And then it occurred to me - healing was the best way to make up for all the deaths. I didn't want to study at St Mungo's, but as luck would have it, Madame Pomfrey knew of a healer in Istanbul who might be willing to take on an apprentice." He shrugged.

Severus was taken aback. Potter felt guilt? And this, when without him, the Wizarding world would still be at the mercy of Voldemort?

"Would you turn over on your stomach, please?" Potter asked politely. 

Severus thought to himself that Potter did have a pleasant slab-side manner, and he obeyed with slow, stiff motions, not voicing his gratitude when Potter's hands gently guided him and took some pressure off his stiff joints.

The entire treatment began on his back: first the warm flow of water, twice, then the scrubbing with the damp glove. It felt pleasant on his arms, and when reaching his shoulders, Potter slowed his movements and applied additional pressure around the shoulder joints and at the base of Severus' neck - some of his most painful spots - but even the extra pressure was not painful. It felt instead as if the pain was being slowly melted into heaviness, then dissolved into tiny tentacles of pain slithering away and out of his body. 

He became aware that Potter was whispering softly as he massaged, in that unfamiliar language again. "Is that Turkish?"

"Yes." There was a soft laugh. "I never managed to learn more than the healing spells and phrases. As you know, I'm not much of a student."

"I used to think so until today," Severus said before he could stop himself. Potter's hand faltered for a moment, and Severus thought he heard a sharp intake of breath, but then the circular rubbing continued, even more gently if that was possible.

"Thank you," Potter finally murmured, almost as quietly as he was murmuring his spells.

Severus closed his eyes, enjoying the softness of the hot damp mat under his cheek. His muscles were relaxing more and more. The stiffness was draining from him as if the glove absorbed it on its journey over his skin. 

All too soon, it was over, and Potter said, "We'll be moving on to the next part of the treatment now. The soap foam massage."

Severus grumbled acknowledgement dazedly.

Potter had started to crumble a soft cake of rose-scented soap into a large bowl of steaming water. As Severus watched him from the corner of his eye, he swished a washcloth around the hot liquid, building up a massive amount of foam. Realising he was being watched, he met his eyes. "This thick foam makes a massage very effective, allowing the masseur's hands to slide more freely over the body." He smiled. "And the warm foam is very pleasant, too. Like floating inside a cloud."

Severus raised his right eyebrow. 

"Many prefer to do this with a washcloth, but I just use it to spread the soap over the body, performing the actual massage with my bare hands. Is that all right with you, sir?"

Severus considered for a moment. This was quite different. The glove had made the previous treatment somewhat impersonal, but this was something he would not generally tolerate. For all that, he found himself nodding assent before he could think too hard about it. 

Potter smiled and nodded. He moved the soapy washcloth quickly and efficiently over the entire back of Severus' body and then discarded the cloth. He took up his position to the left of him and both of his hands lifted the arm and moved it up and next to his head. His hands both held Severus' hand, moving in slick, sliding motions over his wrist and up his arm. There was another brief moment of the expectation of pain, but again there was none. Potter's hands were strong and firm, but his skin was soft and his movements sure but gentle. He had, Severus had to admit, the perfect hands for a masseur. 

His arm was laid back along his side, and he almost purred when the firm hands both started their slick kneading of his left shoulder. Whatever residual tension had been left behind by the scrubbing massage was quickly dissolving under Potter's hands and, by the time Potter moved onto his right arm, Severus felt he could, with suitable encouragement, throw a javelin with his left. 

The soft healing phrases continued, almost lulling Severus to sleep, except that he did not want to miss the gradual dissolving of the all too familiar long-term pain all over his body. He breathed deeply and slowly, the light rose scent of the foaming soap soothing his nervous system while Potter's hands worked every last knot and trace of tension out of his shoulders. By the time they began to work on the nape of his neck, slipping up and down the oversensitive sides of it, fingertips alternating with knuckles, he was quite unaware of the soft moans of pleasure escaping his lips, and of the way they caused the stroking hands to falter ever so slightly.

The treatment continued all over his back, flat palms stroking large areas, and gentle fingers tracing up and down along the sides of his spine. The foam never cooled at all, feeling like a warm blanket of air growing ever thicker, with the massaging hands working underneath it. They firmly stroked down the sides of Severus' torso, fingers curling around it, and kneading gently in the vicinity of his waist, before Potter used the bases of both palms to push firmly into the lower back inwards and outwards again, just at the top edge of the wrap.

Severus heard a slightly more forceful phrase and asked sleepily, "What does that mean?"

Potter chuckled. "That just now? I was swearing at the peştemal. Sorry, very unprofessional."

Severus snorted. "It seems you learned a few non-healing phrases in Turkish as well." When Potter laughed, he added hesitantly, "You may remove it if it's in the way of the massage. I suppose it won't really matter if I'm going to be covered in foam head to foot."

"Thanks," Potter said softly. He fumbled a little with the wrap; Severus had tucked it in so tight to hold it up on both sides that he had to push his soapy hands down inside to loosen it around his hips before being able to undo it. He gently lifted first the right hip, then the left, as he drew the wrap from around the prone body, then discarded it. There was a brief pause before the flow of warm soapy water over the newly exposed flesh.

Severus bit his lip as he felt the warm slippery liquid flow over his buttocks and in between, trickling down between his thighs. This might not have been the best possible idea, but it was too late now. 

Potter had started working his hands up the backs of his legs, and had almost reached the very top of his right thigh by now. He was using the flats of his hands more than his fingers, presumably to avoid tickling him, but considering the leg pains Severus has become so accustomed to, this flat palm treatment was far gentler than actual kneading. He was impressed that Potter had actually divined where he felt most intensely sore.

It was his left leg's turn next, and once Potter reached the top of it, he moved back to the right, slowly lifting his right calf and bending it back at the knee, slowly, and holding it bent for a few seconds, before moving it back to a right angle to his thigh and very gently rotating Severus' ankle, palms wrapped firmly around it. 

He repeated the process with the left leg, for a little longer, just as if he knew it gave Severus even more trouble than the right. Having placed it back down next to the other leg, Potter moved up along the side of the slab, and placed both palms at the very top of his buttocks.

Severus fought the momentary urge to flee, trying to relax as the palms began to move in large circles over his buttocks. He felt and heard the soap develop into the same thick foam already covering the rest of him, and it helped him settle back down. Potter's hands began to knead lightly, up and down over his flesh, as far down as the tops of his thighs. Every so often, the slipperiness of the foam caused his fingertips to slide across the valley between his buttocks, and Severus sucked in his breath. Soon, Potter's hands flattened out again and stroked in a slow, straight line down the entire length of the back of Severus' legs and to his feet, where they left his skin.

"Would you turn over on your back again, please?" he asked in a slightly husky voice.

"If I must," Severus grumbled, causing Potter to chuckle softly. Turning over was easier than it had been before, and Severus lay back with a sigh. Only then did it occur to him that he had lost the wrap for good, and was now entirely exposed to Potter's eyes, very little of the foam which had covered the back of his body of any use to him now.

As if he wasn't even aware of the fact, Potter had reached for the bowl of soap water and was pouring the warm liquid over his neck, his chest, up and down his arms, his groin, and both legs. Severus couldn't help but notice, however, that his eyes were not following the trickling water everywhere, though he didn't know whether it was due to embarrassment or whether he was doing his best to preserve his patient's modesty.

Then Potter's eyes met his, and he leaned forward over Severus, his hands gently resting on his neck. He slid them down lightly before fanning out to the fronts of his shoulders, where he stroked in and out with his fingertips before ending on a long sweeping motion which ended on his upper arms. 

Severus had nowhere else to look but at Potter's face, bent over him as he was, and he did so, noting a slight flush - the room was warm and very humid now. His eyes were still the same brilliant green, which was somehow enhanced by the crystalline light beams reflecting off various surfaces of the room. His nostrils flared a little as he worked his hands over Severus' chest in large circles, spreading and increasing the amount of foam. His tongue flicked out over his lips in concentration, and Severus was mesmerised as he watched it. 

The young man's attractiveness was something he had never allowed himself to think about. It was all he could do to ignore his eyes... those eyes... and the hurt look his actions had so often put there. But now that he lay here, with nothing else to look at and Potter's concentration fully on relaxing and healing his body, and his defences dulled by the soothing scents and sounds and the steady decrease in pain levels and consequential increase in endorphins, he thought Potter might possibly be the most appealing human being he had ever known. This hidden talent for healing was pure bonus.

"When this appointment was made, did you know who Mr Prince would be?" he asked quietly and curiously.

Potter's hands came to rest on his rib cage as he met his eyes. He was still for a moment before murmuring, "I hoped." When Severus' eyes widened, he added, "There were rumours you had survived, that you were recovering somewhere. I kept waiting, hoping that having given me your memories, you might trust me enough to get in contact with me. Through someone. Somehow."

This was a response Severus has not expected. Truth be told, he hadn't expected to be given a single thought after the final battle, not by anyone and least of all by Potter. "I didn't know it would matter to you," he admitted. "And I assumed you were too busy starting a new branch of the Weasley family tree to pay attention to much else."

Potter smiled and shook his head. "That never even got started." He looked intensely at Severus then. "My heart wasn't in it." Severus held his gaze, trying to read the full meaning of the words. He was sure it was there, in Potter's expressive eyes. "You don't know me very well at all," Potter said unexpectedly and a little sadly.

Severus had to admit that this was true. "It was safer not to," he said. "We were fighting a war, and it is easier to treat someone like an enemy if one thinks of that someone as an enemy."

Potter digested this for a moment, then nodded. "By the time I knew you had been protecting me all those years, you were gone. I never got the chance to thank you."

Severus considered the spreading warmth and relaxation reviving his body minute by minute, and said, "You are doing so now, Mr Potter. You are a gifted healer."

Potter, to his amazement, blushed. "Thank you," he said. Then it occurred to him that he had ceased his massage some time ago, and he muttered an apology and reached for the bowl of soapy water, pouring it over the not yet foam-covered areas of Severus' body. "I hope I didn't let you cool down too much. Sorry."

Truth be told, Severus had never felt warmer or more comfortable in his life. And along with their conversation, and Potter's flushed and intense expression, it was having an embarrassing side effect on his body. 

"I'm quite comfortable," he told his healer nonetheless, and it was mostly true. He tried to shift surreptitiously.

Potter looked relieved. So relieved he seemed to notice nothing amiss as he moved down to the end of the slab and began to massage Severus' feet.

The firm pressure of finger tips stroked the arches, the sides, and then the soles, before attending to each toe one by one, then the balls of his feet, and the heels, before Potter's fingers slid between his toes back and forth.

Severus closed his eyes, squeezing them tightly shut. There was nothing he could do about his body's reaction to this. He was only human.

Potter's hands wrapped around his ankles again, not rotating them this time, just stroking them briefly before moving up Severus' lower legs, applying equal pressure to both sides, then briefly covering his knees with his palms, just resting them there before moving them in gentle circles. Then he moved to the right side of the slab and worked his hands up Severus' thigh, just on the right side, kneading firmly, ignoring his patient's predicament. He did the same on the left side, his kneading motions thickening the foam until, mercifully, Severus could take comfort in the fact that the thick lather was once again covering him completely. Though the slippery, warm, enveloping  
softness did nothing to relieve his problem. Quite the opposite. And Potter's hands were still sliding over the outsides of his thigh, over his hips, and back down on the insides of his thighs.

"Relax," Potter whispered.

Severus opened his eyes and stared at him. And Potter, who had seemed blissfully ignorant of his predicament before Severus had closed his eyes, was more flushed than before. His eyes were shining, and his lips - had they always looked so rosy? His lips were slightly parted as if nose breathing alone was not enough. Severus was incapable of snappy remarks, just a dry laugh. "I wish I could."

Potter swallowed hard. He was considering his next words carefully, very carefully, that much was obvious. Finally he spoke. "Let me help you, sir."

Severus considered denying the request firmly, saying Potter's gratitude needn't go as far as that, until the young man added something crucial to his request.

"Please, Severus."

This was not about gratitude, and it was not about returning him to his former relaxed state by whatever means necessary. Acknowledging the way Potter looked at him, the way the hands on his thighs under the thick foam trembled, he couldn't help but see that this was something Potter truly wanted. He nodded.

Potter bit his lip. His left hand remained on Severus' hip, the other slid down between his thighs again, this time parting them slightly. His knuckles brushed Severus' balls, and they both gasped a little. Potter turned his hand over and squeezed them firmly, by turns, in his warm, slippery palm. 

Severus watched his face from under heavy lids, feeling muscles twitch in his thighs. He raised his left thigh off the towel a little, allowing him to turn slightly towards Potter. With their eyes locked, Potter's hand slid slowly from his balls to the base of his cock, where he closed his palm and started to stroke upwards, and the heavenly effects of being covered in slippery foam became very, very apparent to Severus. 

Potter's hands were as good at this as they were at massaging, and it took no more than a few strokes before Severus' thigh fell back, and his hips tried to arch up a little. Potter's hand on his hips kept him from actually lifting off the towel and hurting his back, however, and the added thoughtfulness seemed to intensify every sensation. The stroking hand slid up and down, fingertips tracing veins and ridges, circling and playing with the head of Severus' cock. The edge of a fingertip traced his slit, back and forth, and then the grip tightened again around the shaft, speeding its strokes.

"Merlin!" Severus cried out, his head sinking back onto the towel and his eyes fluttering closed. He had felt nothing like this in longer, so much longer, than he cared to remember. In truth, he had never felt anything quite like this. Potter's touch was pure magic, and once the second hand joined the first, it threatened to drive Severus out of his mind. 

Both palms were cupped around his shaft now, tightly enough not to slide off on the soap, and Potter began a maddening motion with both thumbs, pushing them up against the underside of the head of his cock, ever faster, as if it was a knot to be worked out and released. Severus groaned, his fingers digging into the thick towel beneath him - the only non-slippery surface he could grasp. He could hear Potter's rapid breathing, wanted to look at him and see his expression, but it was all he could do to lie still enough not to slide off the marble, mat and all, and to keep from crying out loudly enough to alert the receptionist several rooms away.

"Come for me, Severus, please come for me," he heard then, and the voice was so breathless and urgent, he couldn't help but obey with a heartfelt groan. The massage of his cock continued through his spasms but gentled gradually afterwards, until Potter's marvellous hands held his softening, now even more slippery, cock like a treasure, before resting it against his thigh.

Severus' breathing very slowly returned to normal, and his eyes opened. Either it was getting dark outside or the rain had intensified - the light beams from the domed ceiling had gone from soft pastels to deep jewel tones. The room was, if even possible, more lovely than before. He turned his head towards Potter, who looked flustered but strangely happy, like someone who had been given a gift he had long wished for and given up on ever receiving.

Slowly, Severus rose to a sitting position. Potter's hands had moved to his thighs and were now slowly retreating completely. Before that could happen, Severus reached for his right wrist and drew him closer. Effortlessly. Neither his arm nor his back were giving him any trouble. He felt as if balloons had been attached to all his limbs and they needed no exertion to move them. He was sure he had never felt so light in his life. He raised his right hand and cupped Potter's cheek, his palm nearly sliding off from the soapiness.

Potter smiled and pressed his cheek into the touch like a cat being petted. And Severus leaned in and kissed him. The soft, temptingly rosy lips responded eagerly, parting for him, and Severus deepened the kiss, moving his hand from Harry's cheek to the back of his head. They kissed for a long time, exploring each other's mouth and learning each other's tastes, until the kiss petered out slowly and tenderly.

Harry leaned his forehead against Severus'. "Thank you for coming back," he whispered.

"I would have done so sooner, had I known you were waiting." 

Harry smiled, kissing his cheek. "I got some soap on your face."

"I would be surprised if you had not." 

Harry laughed. "You still have another treatment lined up - the almond milk and rose bath." 

"Hm." Severus held his face to meet his eyes. "Would it be very unprofessional of the healer to join the patient in this bath?" 

"Very," Harry said with a mock serious expression. "It's unprecedented, but that wouldn't be a first today."

"In that case, Harry... I believe the therapeutic effect would be enhanced by your presence." He released his face and looked Harry up and down. "Besides, you are already in need of a change of clothes."

Harry grinned sheepishly, brushing large puffs of foam off himself. Then he stared at Severus, his eyes wide. "I didn't rinse you down!"

"Well," Severus said. "The sooner you start, the sooner we can get into that bath. Merlin's beard, I'll be smelling of roses for a week!" Harry laughed out loud. Severus swung his legs over the edge of the slab and stood, stretching. And then he looked at Harry with what could only be described as awe. "You've given me back my body."

Harry grinned and looked rather proud. "You'll need it in perfect working order. I have plans for it."

They both agreed that one should never put off until tomorrow what one could do today. After all, they had wasted enough time already.

 

-The End-


End file.
